Gingerbread Kisses
by Crowley's Queen
Summary: It is almost Christmas and Alfred (America) comes home to find Arthur (England) baking some cookies to surprise him. Arthur always means well and Alfred loves him for it. Cuteness ensues. One shot, Drabble, Human names used. USUK Fluff!


**AN: Written on the spur of the moment, so apologies if it is rough and random-I was in a festive mood. **

**Established USUK relationship. Only human names used for this one. I'm not sure why I did that. I tend to adore them as nations. Weird.  
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**One-shot, Drabble, Fluff...oh so fluffy...**

**I'm kicking off the holidays a bit early this year. Hope that you enjoy!**

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><p><span><strong>Gingerbread Kisses<strong>

Alfred was not prepared for the sight that greeted him when he got home that afternoon. He had spent all morning battling other shoppers looking for a few more gifts to bestow upon his friends for the upcoming holiday. Then he had spent an extra half an hour driving in the steadily worsening snow that had begun while he was browsing the local shops. He had expected to come home and find Arthur curled up on the couch with some tea and the fire blazing, but when he stepped through the door, his British boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. There were, however, noises coming from the kitchen and a lingering smell of smoke in the air.

'_That can't be good,' _Alfred thought, smiling a bit as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them on the floor.

Arthur was a determined cook, however he wasn't very good. Everything he cooked was edible, it was just usually off somehow. Too many spices, slightly underdone, slightly overdone. For the most part, Alfred didn't mind—if cooking made Artie happy then Al was happy. He just wished that his gorgeous Arthur would pay a little more attention when he indulged in his 'culinary masterpieces.' Shaking his head in anticipation to what he suspected he would find in the kitchen, Alfred set his bags down and moved farther into the house, tracking snow from his boots on the hardwood floors. Peeking around the corner, his mouth dropped a bit at the scene before him.

The entire kitchen was a disaster zone, with almost every inch of counter space covered with dirty bowls, spoons, measuring cups and every ingredient for baking cookies known to humankind. The kitchen island was piled high with 'finished product,' some of which looked quite delicious even if they were outnumbered by the ones burnt beyond recognition. There were enough cookies to feed a small country; and Alfred's proper blonde Brit was standing smack in the middle of the entire mess.

Realizing that he was no longer alone, Arthur turned to face his boyfriend with a sheepish look on his face. "Hello love," he ducked his head slightly, his cheeks going a pretty pink. "I didn't know you'd be home this early."

Taking in the scene before him, Alfred burst into laughter. Arthur's usually immaculate clothes were covered in streaks of flour, there was something that looked like egg shells in his hair, and he was randomly splattered with cookie batter.

"What in the world are you doing?" Alfred took a step towards his adorable Englishman.

Patting his own cheek absently, Arthur looked around the room, blinking rapidly as if noticing for the first time what a huge mess he had made. "I was just trying to get the biscuits done before you got home."

"Why?" Alfred smiled. "You know I like making cookies—it's one of my favorite parts of the holidays. You didn't have to do it by yourself."

"It was a surprise," Arthur hung his head a bit. "I wanted to make all the kinds you like."

Alfred chuckled, "Well then you're gonna be here 'til New Years cause I like about a _thousand_ different kinds."

Arthur grinned, reached out with the wooden spoon he was holding and swung it toward Alfred saying "You git!" Alfred nimbly jumped back, avoiding the spoon and snatching it out of his lover's hand in one motion. Laughing as he took the large wooden spoon from the Brit, Alfred placed most of it in his mouth, licking off the large amount of batter clinging to the utensil.

"Stop that!" Arthur tried to grab the spoon back. "You can't just lick it off you know—that is very unsanitary! Now I can't use this spoon again—no one wants your germs!"

"Honey," Alfred smiled, his mouth still full of cookie dough. "No one is going to eat these things. They're terrible—and I know _you _don't mind my germs." The tall American winked at his sputtering, red-faced partner. Taking a step towards his lover, Alfred reached up to cup the shorter man's cheeks. He leaned down to press a soft, sweet kiss on Arthur's lips and pulled back smiling saying, "You taste like gingerbread."

"Well," Arthur smiled, "I had to taste them you know—that's what those cooking shows all say."

"Uh huh," Alfred grinned and leaned in for one more kiss. "You just wanted all the delicious dough for yourself—I see how it is, old man." The American wiped a small streak of batter off of the Brit's cheek and grinned. His boyfriend was adorable—so determined to be amazing in the kitchen. The Englishman was amazing in other rooms of the house, and in Alfred's mind, that was more than enough—they could always order takeout or buy cookies from the store. Alfred figured it was a lost cause, but he would indulge his lover for as long as Arthur wanted.

Grabbing one of the more burnt cookies from the pile on the island, Alfred popped it in his mouth, taking care not to grimace at the taste of ash. Grabbing a spatula off of the counter and waving it next to his face he smiled at Arthur and said "Can I help?"

Arthur beamed and blushed a bit deeper before saying "Of course love." He handed Alfred some frosting and pointed to the pile of blackened baked goods. "We can decorate the sugar cutouts for now."

As Alfred set to work, attempting to make the burnt cookies at least look delectable, Arthur simply watched him with a huge smile spreading across his face. Sliding up behind the taller blonde, Arthur slipped his arms around Alfred's waist and gave him a quick kiss on the back of his neck and whispered, "Thank you love."

Turning to wrap his free hand around Arthur's shoulders while still using his left to spread frosting, Alfred tucked his boyfriend underneath his arm and asked, "For what?"

"You never tell me to stop," Arthur nestled his head against the American's firm chest. "You never tell me to give up."

Pressing a firm kiss to Arthur's messy hair, Alfred tilted the Brit's chin up so that he could look into his eyes. "That's cause I don't want you to," he stated.

Both men smiled and wrapped their arms around each other, all baking forgotten as they shared a deep kiss.

"Merry Christmas Artie."

"Happy Christmas Alfred."


End file.
